


What If I'm Far From Home (Oh, Brother I Would Hear You Call)

by Kailene



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Brotherhood, Cairo Week 2020, Caring Jack Dalton (MacGyver TV 2016), Comfort, Emotional Hurt, Episode Fix-it, Episode Rewrite S4e09 Code + Artemis + Nuclear + N3mesis, Family Feels, Gen, Improvise Day, Protective Jack Dalton (MacGyver 2016), upset mac
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:28:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kailene/pseuds/Kailene
Summary: Mac's not as alone as he feels... He never will be.Written for Cairo Week 2020
Comments: 19
Kudos: 55





	What If I'm Far From Home (Oh, Brother I Would Hear You Call)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonflysoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflysoul/gifts).



> First, this is a gift for dragonflysoul, who posted a comment on Twitter after episode 9 aired saying simply, "What if it had been Jack who'd caught the ball that Mac was throwing at the end of the epsode instead of Russ?" That idea sparked my Muse and I couldn't grab my laptop fast enough. I had originally planned to rewrite the entire ending scene, but once I got started writing this is the path that Mac and his emotions took me on. I hope you like it. 
> 
> I'd also like to send a huge Thank You out to Impossiblepluto for her imput, advice and kind words, and to RiatheMai for the support and beta. 
> 
> Finally, this is currently Cairo Week, with today being officially Cairo Day, with a theme of Improvise. There were prompts given that you could use if chosen, and I'm placing this in between "Thicker than Water" and "Soulmates." Which to me, says everything about the bond that Mac and Jack share. 
> 
> Title is taken from the song, "Hey Brother," by Avicii

Throw. Hit. Return.

The ball slaps against his palm with a hard _thwack_ that doesn’t register. His vision wavers and blurs as tears fill his eyes; always threatening, never falling. Not that there is anyone left to see them

Throw. Hit. Return. 

The small, rubber ball impacts the wall opposite him with force enough to rattle the bright yellow neon service center sign that hangs on the wall that joins it, shaking it on the pins that hold it in place. A distant part of Mac wonders if it’s going to fall. 

Not that it matters, Mac thinks blankly. “Dad’s gone. Mom’s gone… I’m all alone.”

Throw. Hit. 

A hand suddenly appears in the space in front of him, catching the ball easily out of midair before it returns. 

“No you’re not… y’got me.”

Mac’s head snaps up so fast he’s not going to be surprised if he ends up with whiplash. He doesn’t need to see to know who it is standing right beside him, doesn’t need to put a face to the voice that has always meant home and safety. The smooth drawl is as known to him as his own.

“ _Jack_ …” 

“Heya, hoss… mind if I sit? Been a long flight.”

“H-how are you even here?” Mac’s voice is a barely-there whisper. Eyes wide and full of disbelief, he stares up at his best friend, then watches him slowly slide down the wall until Jack is sitting on the floor beside him. “W-when did you…? Who…?”

He’s afraid to blink; he doesn’t dare breathe, too terrified that if he does, in that split second between one heartbeat and the next, Jack will be gone. Vanished. Will have been just another of his dreams, a hallucination come to haunt his waking life. 

He can’t think. His thoughts are scattered fragments, a million different threads that tangle and tighten and spin ever faster as he tries to grasp at them. He feels off-kilter and unmoored, nothing making sense. 

Then again, nothing has made sense for a very long time. 

But Jack… 

Jack is a solid weight where he’s pressed shoulder to hip at Mac’s side, his knee bent and resting against Mac’s own. He’s leather and gun oil, warm and reassuring, comforting and grounding. 

Mac’s world tilts back on its axis, slows its spin, and settles back into place… Because Jack is here. 

_Jack is here_. 

Terror grips him as the words and their meaning ring again in his mind: _Jack is here_.

If Jack’s hunt was done, they all would have heard. Tiberius Kovac being killed or brought to justice would be front-page news for every intelligence agency and media outlet around the globe. And Mac knows that he’s been wrapped up in a lot of things, but he knows that he hasn’t missed that news.

Jack may not be wearing his BDU’s, but the black pants, heavy boots, and high-collared black TAC shirt he’s wearing instead of jean’s and one of his favorite band tees speak volumes to where Jack is currently still employed.

Which only leaves Mac with one explanation. Because this is _Jack_ , unselfish, caring, self-sacrificing Jack.

“Jack…” Mac breaths out, slow and cautious and scared. “Are you AWOL?” 

He’s lived—learned to exist—without Jack for over two years now. The only thing getting him through, buoying his strength, was the knowledge that it may take a while, may take _years_ even, but Jack was coming back to them when his mission was complete. 

If Mac had to _live without him_ … 

He shakes his head, determined. That is never going to happen. 

As many times as Mac has envisioned this moment, imagined their reunion, and Jack being back by his side, this is not how he wants it. 

“Mac…” 

Mac looks quickly behind them towards the door, listening for any sound that doesn’t belong, any sound out of place. He scans the area around them, quickly cataloguing every item within his reach while his mind races to come up with a plan of action to ensure that Jack gets away and to safety before he can be taken... 

Taken away from Mac. 

Before he can be put in cuffs and dropped in a black site somewhere it would take Mac time to find, time to plan and time to execute a rescue. 

More time away from Mac that Mac refuses to give.

Because Mac has lost a lot of people, but losing Jack will never be an option. 

“ _Mac_ …”

The snap of his name brings Mac up short and his full attention is instantly on Jack. 

“Hey… take a breath, bud, alright? Can you do that for me?” Jack soothes. “Slow it down a bit, huh? Last thing I need is you passin’ out on me right now.” 

Mac doesn’t even realize just how fast he’s breathing, how light-headed he’s feeling until Jack brings it to his attention. He takes a slow, deep inhale and listens for Jack’s deep, slightly exaggerated breathes. He’s grateful that his eyes are already closed, squeezes them tighter against the tears he can feel threatening to spill as he easily finds Jack’s rhythm, his breathing slowing and syncing up to Jack’s as if they’d never spent a moment apart. 

Mac opens his eyes and looks over at Jack, gives him a small smile and a nod of his head, letting him know that he’s got himself under a bit more control. 

“I’m not AWOL… Boys and I have a few days R&R,” Jack assures him before Mac can even form the words to ask him the question again. His voice is steady, calm, and almost easygoing as Jack looks at him. But Mac can still read his best friend, doesn’t miss the haunted quality in the depth of his eyes before Jack shutters them closed, and knows that the explanation is not as simple as that. That there is much more to the story. 

“So, you can stop lookin’ for the fully-armed Spec Ops team to come stormin’ your door,” he quips. “And you can put the hyper hamsters in your brain workin’ overtime on an evac plan back in their cages.”

Despite everything, Mac finds himself chuckling. Jack has always had an innate ability to know just what to say to him…to get him out of his head, to lighten the mood when everything around them was going to hell, and warmth spreads throughout his body at the knowledge that even time and distance can’t steal that away from them. 

“Then how did you find out?” Mac asks quietly. “Matty call you? Or one of the others?”

“No, none of the above. Though I did call Matty a little bit ago after I landed. Think it’s the only time I have ever been truly able to surprise that woman.” Jack huffs out a laugh before he sobers, voice regretful and sympathetic as he continues. “She told me about Lasky. I wish you hadn’t been forced to make that decision.” 

Mac can only nod his head. He knows that if there is one other person on this planet who understands the pain and guilt he’s currently feeling, it’s Jack. He also knows that Jack knows not to push, knows and understands that he is just unable to talk about that right now. So Mac asks another question, partly to redirect, but mostly because Mac is genuinely curious: if Matty or one of the others didn’t call and inform Jack of his father’s death—and there’s absolutely no doubt that’s why Jack is here—then how did he find out. 

“So…? How…?” 

“Sarah,” Jack says simply. 

That takes Mac aback and he can only blink owlishly a few times at his best friend as he tries to process that admission. 

“Well looky there…” Jack laughs, amused and so obviously pleased with himself, mirth and that touch of mischief bright in his brown eyes, and he knocks his shoulder against Mac’s. “That’s two o’ya I’ve managed to surprise into silence today. Must be my lucky day.” 

_No_ , Mac thinks, swallowing against the emotions thick in his throat. _It’s definitely my lucky day_. 

“You mean Sarah…” he trails off, one of his hands waving in a vague semblance of… something, not quite knowing how to finish that sentence. He can’t for the life of him remember her new last name, or if she even took her husband’s name after they married, and saying to Jack _your Sarah_ is totally out of the question as are the dozen other inquires that Mac would like to ask about the two of them. 

Turns out he doesn’t have to figure it out. Jack, as he has always done with all things Mac, comes to his rescue. 

“Yes, that Sarah,” he confirms with a soft smile. “I contacted her while I was on the transport when I originally shipped out, told her what was going on, asked if she would keep an eye on any chattering that came across the wire that pertained to y’all.” And Mac can see in his eyes just how much Jack knows and all the questions he himself has about what’s happened since his departure. 

“One new babysitter to keep an eye on us wasn’t enough for you?” Mac asks, eyebrow raised and slight smirk lifting one side of his mouth. 

“Smartass,” Jack scoffs with a fond shake of his head. 

“Dez is one of the best, but y’all can find trouble in an empty paper bag, man. So, hard copy… the whole lot of you have more than one babysitter. And a back-up, and a back-up for the back-up babysitter and so on and so forth,” he adds, then goes on to answer all the other questions that are swirling in Mac’s brain like he had asked them aloud. 

“No, Sarah is not married anymore,” he starts, holding up one finger as he starts to tick off his list of answers. “This lifestyle doesn’t lend itself it well to relationships, doubly so when one of you isn’t in the life and is left behind. Yes, I have seen her, at length and on multiple occasions, as she’s the only one I trust to work with at the Farm. Yes, we have gone to dinner. Yes, I enjoyed myself. And finally, the answer to that one question I know y’dyin’ to know the answer to…” 

It’s Jack’s turn to trail off and look away, and he takes a breath, blows it out slowly. He drags his hands down his face, calloused fingers rasping against the scruff that lines his jaw. “Yes, I still have feelings for her, I always will. But now is certainly not the time for me to be figurin’ ‘em out or actin’ on ‘em. And as much as you know I love to talk, talkin’ 'bout me isn’t what we’re doin’ here.”

He turns his head, looking back over at Mac, his voice quiet and gentle and full of sorrow. “I am so damn sorry about your old man, Mac. M’not even gonna ask if you’re alright, ‘cuz I know you’re far from it. So how ‘bout you tell me all that happened?” 

Even in the near darkness of the hallway, Mac can see the sadness and hurt written in the lines of Jack’s face, the tenderness and understanding shining in his eyes.

It’s all directed at him— _for him_. It’s nearly Mac’s undoing and he has to look away, blinking furiously against the tears he can’t let fall. 

Jack’s right. He usually is—as the team so often liked to point out—where his assessments of Mac are concerned. Mac is so very far being alright. 

He’s not sure he ever will be again.

What happened? 

That’s a loaded question and one so far beyond complicated Mac isn’t even sure where to start, what ravaged, landmine-laden road he wants to attempt to go down first to begin his explanation. How does he begin when he doesn’t even understand? When he wants to scream and rage at the world— _at this father_ —for the unfairness of it all? When he can’t categorize or label or prioritize any of the emotions that are swirling like an f4 tornado through his mind?

A loud and sudden thwack has Mac’s head snapping up, startled, and his downward spiral immediately stops. His hand shoots out on reflex at the same time his brain registers the moving object and he catches the small, rubber ball mere inches from his face as it makes its return bounce from the far wall. 

He glances over at Jack, who just stares straight back at him, not repentant in the least. Jack winks at him, and nods his head across the small hallway. 

Mac tosses the ball back towards the wall in front of them, putting the same spin and angle on it so it bounces straight at Jack on its return trip. 

Jack doesn’t prod for answers, doesn’t press Mac to speak. He remains silent and still, a solid wall of strength at Mac’s side; his only movement his hand as he continues to toss the ball at the wall. Never failing to catch anything that Mac throws at him. 

Long minutes stretch by, broken only by the hollow smack of rubber as it hits the surfaces in front of them and their steady exhales of breath. It’s a companionable silence, peaceful and calming and easy in a way Mac hasn’t felt or been in a very long time, and Mac finds his voice... 

Slowly, haltingly, as the tears start to fall, Mac tells Jack his story. 


End file.
